


we're gonna rattle this ghost town

by Authoress



Series: WRITE-O-WEEN [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: (also he's a paranormal investigator), Halloween, M/M, alternate title: (ukai sweating nervously), and takeda is far too clever, in which (haha witch pun) ukai has a lot of domestic magical abilities, urban witch au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-15
Updated: 2015-10-15
Packaged: 2018-04-26 11:39:37
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5003344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Authoress/pseuds/Authoress
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Hello,” Keishin settles on, forcing a smile. “Can I help you?”</p><p>The man makes a noise that might be a cough smothering a laugh and adjusts his tie, already messy and crooked. The movement does nothing but make his entire ensemble messier. <i>Oh dear,</i> Keishin thinks in the back of his mind. <i>That’s, um. That’s adorable.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	we're gonna rattle this ghost town

**Author's Note:**

  * For [richterscaler](https://archiveofourown.org/users/richterscaler/gifts).



> day 08: **witchcraft** / potions / black cat
> 
> i am...great at doing things in order. and writing fics of around 2k. yep. 
> 
> here you go sam, it's late as always but it's good shit so like?? don't fight me

 

Tuesdays, as always, were slow.

Keishin wouldn’t mind the break from customers, usually, since it gave him time to read the paper (which _wasn’t_ lame, no matter how many times Yuusuke teased him for it), but after an early morning on the farm, the lack of activity in Sakanoshita Store made for a problematic recipe of inattentiveness on Keishin’s part. He was already wilting, moving closer to sleep with every line of kanji he read. When the morning sun was streaming in through the window and settling on his legs and forearms, warming him, Keishin could just lean back, crack his back, let his eyes slide closed…

“Oi, Kageyama, stop pushing!”

“Hey, you’re both blocking the entrance to the store!”

“What are you, idiots?”

Well. That would be the case if the volleyball club would leave him in peace for a damn _minute_. His eyes snap open and Keishin sits up, banging the heel of his shoe against the counter, loud enough to make the two first-years attempting to wiggle through the door yelp and spring apart.

“I keep saying this—if you’re going to make a ruckus, do it somewhere else!” He snaps, agitated. “See how empty this store is? It’s ‘cause you hooligans keep scaring away all my customers!” That wasn’t necessarily true, but fucking _hell_ , Keishin was _tired_ , and the pretty third year was already forcing the wayward first-years into an apologetic bow anyway. The tall one with glasses frowns at Keishin’s obviously bullshit outburst and Keishin stares him down until he looks away, clicking his tongue.

“But if _we’re_ customers too…” The small first-year mutters under his breath.

The pretty senpai smacks the back of his head. “Shut up, Hinata,” he says pleasantly. To Keishin, he bows and says, “I’m deeply sorry for disturbing you. Again.”

Keishin only sighs and says, “Welcome to the store,” out of habit. The rest of the team files in behind the first-years, greeting Keishin with respectful nods. He groans, more because of the potential nap lost than his regulars. Honestly, this called for a smoke.

Keishin pulls out a cigarette, and without thinking, snaps his fingers. A flame sparks between his finger tips and lights the end of the cigarette. He freezes, fear icing his veins and turning him to stone. A sheepish glance at his surroundings reassures Keishin that no one saw his little tiny mistake that was actually a _colossal giant fuck-up_ , but his hand still shakes a little as he takes a drag from the cigarette, letting the nicotine calm him down.

_That was too close._

Keishin was twenty-six now; he had no excuse for even the slightest slip. Perhaps when he was just a kid, his grandfather might smack him on the back of his head and scold him for using magic openly, but now it was a danger he had spent his entire life learning to avoid. If even one person used it and didn’t come up for a logical explanation of how magic _wasn’t_ magic, all witches would be put in jeopardy. Keishin shivers. Witch hunts and systematic hunting of their people would be nothing compared to what humans were capable now, in the age of science. _Non-magical people must never know about the existence of magic._

Sure, it was handy on occasion. On slow days like today, Keishin might bewitch a broom to do the work for him, restock shelves with the flick of a wrist rather than manual labor. As long as no one lingered around Keishin, he could get by with slacking and relying on magic, even if his grandfather disapproved (and consequently, made him do the farm work by hand). For the Ukai family, magic was more of an assist than a way of life.

Keishin doesn’t mind living as a normal human, disguising his abilities every hour of the day. Really.

He exhales, the cloud of smoke taking the vague shape of cartoonish cloud, frowning harshly. Keishin doesn’t even realize that he’s messing with his smoke until it starts gnashing its vapory teeth at Keishin. He waves it away, clicking his tongue. He’s too agitated to keep himself under control. Luckily, the kids return with their purchases before Keishin can do something really stupid.

“Witchcraft,” a voice says, making Keishin jump a foot and knock his newspaper off the counter. The pretty senpai—Sugawara, if Keishin remembers correctly—laughs, as startled as Keishin and considerably more embarrassed. “Sorry,” Sugawara apologizes, “I didn’t mean to surprise you.”

“Witchcraft?” Keishin chokes out, voice strained. Somehow, Sugawara doesn’t call him on it.

“Oh! I just meant it’s witchcraft how those kids manage to eat so much. I’m an athlete too and I can barely manage half of their portions!” He laughs again, soft, and Keishin joins him, albeit far more nervously.

When Sugawara finally leaves him, Keishin collapses into his chair and lets out a shaky breath. God, it wasn’t even noon yet and Keishin was ready to call it a day. Maybe he could get his mother to cover for him, explain that he wasn’t feeling quite well, perhaps even get out of work on the farm tomorrow morning and sleep in…Keishin’s hand is on the phone when the shop’s bell chimes, announcing a new customer.

“Oi, what the hell do you bratty kids want?” Keishin flips around, irritable, only to come face to face with someone who was _not_ a member of the volleyball club, _not_ a kid, and certainly _not_ someone Keishin should be talking to with such a crass tone of voice.

Seeking to remedy the situation, Keishin sputters, trips over his own tongue, and promptly spits out a strangled _gack!_ noise at his customer.

“Um, hello,” the man says, still smiling, but brow creased in concern. “Is something…”

“Nothing is wrong! Sorry! Thought you were…” Keishin gestures weakly out the door. “…One of those….kids…” _Smooth. So smooth, Keishin. Smooth enough to slip on the floor and fall face first on the ground, ass in the air. You’re an embarrassment to yourself, your family, your family’s store, and most importantly, **yourself** , because that is an undeniably attractive man and you’re blubbering like a rude idiot!_

“Hello,” Keishin settles on, forcing a smile. “Can I help you?”

The man makes a noise that might be a cough smothering a laugh and adjusts his tie, already messy and crooked. The movement does nothing but make his entire ensemble messier. _Oh dear,_ Keishin thinks in the back of his mind. _That’s, um. That’s adorable._

“I guess we’re both just a bit of a hot mess,” the man laughs, rubbing the back of his head. His clothes are a little wrinkled and his hair is in a state of disarray. Keishin thinks about running his fingers through it, mussing it further. He thinks about getting a comb, straightening the tangled mess, hopping on a bus, and riding to the nearest church to be cleansed of his sins.

“You could say that,” he squeaks instead.

The man hums thoughtfully and clasps his hands behind his back, walking further into the store with a slight spring in his step. He looks almost like a child, small and soft on the eyes, but there’s a glint in his eyes that tells Keishin he’s more. Maybe it’s just the sunlight on his glasses.

“So…can I help you, Mr…?” Keishin offers again, lamely.

“Takeda. Takeda Ittetsu,” he replies. “Are you the owner of this shop?”

“Ah, no,” Keishin sighs. “It’s a family-run business, so my parents are the current owners. I’ll inherit it, though…soon as I settle down with a spouse and make a family.” He mutters the last part under his breath.

“Oh, so your family has lived here for quite a while then? Ah!” Takeda exclaims. “My favorite brand of sake! Thank goodness, I haven’t had any in quite some time.”

“Hmm? Oh yes, our family’s been here…probably since this was just a tiny town, not even a place on the map,” Keishin explains. He doesn’t add that his family is as ancient as the ages and watched Miyagi grow around them through the ages. It doesn’t strike him as a good idea to freak out this stranger with his extensive family history.

Takeda grabs a bottle of the sake, a container of salt, garlic, and a variety of otherwise unrelated items in his arms. He huffs at his unwieldy cargo. Keishin bites down a snicker. “Would you like a basket?” He asks, already at Takeda’s side with a basket.

Takeda flushes. “Um. Yes, that would be quite helpful. Thank you…ah! I never asked for your name! I’m so sorry, please forgive me.” He bows deeply, nearly knocking into his basket.

“Oh, it’s no trouble!” Keishin says. “You wouldn’t usually catch the name of your convenience store clerk; really, it’s fine.” He pauses. “It’s Ukai. Ukai Keishin.”

He might be imagining it, but he thinks he sees Takeda’s eyes widen in recognition. “…Oh,” Takeda says, at length. “Well, in any case, thank you Ukai-kun.”

Keishin’s heart seizes and he coughs anxiously. Was it heart failure? Muscle strain from working the farm? _No, you fucking idiot,_ he scolds himself. _You’re attracted to this tousled mess of a man you just met and have proceeded to make a fool of yourself in front of since._

“A long family history, huh?” Takeda notes pleasantly, but his voice sounds off, his cheer forced. “I’m sure you’ve seen some crazy things over the years.”

“Oh…yeah, I guess,” Keishin concedes. Most of the memorable events in Miyagi’s history were magic related, though, and he couldn’t tell Takeda that. “It’s not anything too interesting, though.”

“Really? No wild stories? Urban legends? Downright _unbelievable_ events?” Takeda isn’t facing Keishin—busy browsing the shelves with careful eyes, _too_ careful eyes—and Keishin feels a cold shiver down his back. When did this friendly small talk turn into an interrogation? And in Keishin’s store, his own turf, too?

Suddenly every cautious brush of Takeda’s fingers over the tops of cans feels like a threat, every passing glance around the store, suspicion. Keishin crosses his arms unconsciously. “Can’t say I can think of any off the top of my head. Miyagi isn’t all that interesting, y’know. Just a little country town.” _Drop it,_ Keishin prays. _Drop the issue, buy your stuff, and get out of here._

As if reading his mind, the tension leaves Takeda’s shoulders and he fiddles with his tie. “…Sorry,” he says, offering Keishin a genuine, sheepish smile. It’s enough to make Keishin drop his guard, uncross his arms. “I’m very curious about this kind of stuff, and I end up scaring people with my persistence.”

Keishin laughs, relieved. “So you were one of _those_ kids, huh? The _nerds_.” It comes out more teasing, or—god forbid— _flirtatious_ than Keishin intends, but Takeda takes it in stride, laughing along.

“Ukai-kun, how could you! Ah, but still, guilty as charged, I suppose,” Takeda admits. “All my classmates made fun of my glasses, told me how ‘uncool’ they were until I graduated high school.” He shakes his head, amused by the memory.

“Oh, they aren’t that bad,” Keishin disagrees. “They suit you. They make you seem kind of…um…” _Cute,_ was the word Keishin was thinking of, but he couldn’t say that. “…Non-threatening?” He offers.

Takeda giggles. _Giggles_. “Please, I’m the least threatening person on this planet,” he argues amiably. “I doubt I could frighten a fly.”

“That persistence of yours is quite frightening, though,” Keishin jokes, nudging Takeda’s arm with his elbow as Takeda sets his basket down on the counter. Takeda rolls his eyes.

“How else am I supposed to find out what I need to know or get where I need to go? I’m quite good at getting on my knees and begging if it comes down to it,” he adds, voice both as delicate and smooth as silk.

Keishin gapes, and Takeda laughs loudly enough and evilly enough to be considered a _cackle_. “Oh my goodness, you should see the look on your face, Ukai-kun! Don’t be angry,” he says when Keishin schools his face into something that resembles a cross between incredulity and awe. Takeda regards him thoughtfully for a moment. “Actually, if it’s not too much trouble, perhaps you could stop by my house for sake? I’ve just moved here, you see, and it’s no good to drink sake alone.”

“W-well,” Keishin coughs, “it wouldn’t really do for me to turn down such an offer and leave you on your own when I’m the first friend you’ve made, would it? It just so happens that I’m free tonight.”

Takeda claps his hands together, pleased. “Excellent! I’ll text you my address, here.” He hands his phone to Keishin so he can input his number. Keishin obliges, feeling like a schoolboy all over again, giving his number to someone cool, like an upperclassman or a _teacher_.

“What brings you into town, anyway?” Keishin asks as he rings up the items. “Miyagi doesn’t attract many tourists.”

“I’m conducting an investigation,” Takeda replies happily.

“Oh, really?” Keishin smiles. “Never would have pegged you as a cop.”

“Ah, it’s not _that_ kind of investigation, Ukai-kun,” Takeda explains, voice dropping in volume. “You see, I’m a paranormal investigator.” For the second time today, Keishin’s blood runs cold. “I’ve been following up on some tips that led to Miyagi, and finally decided to bite the bullet and come here myself. I’m glad I did—there certainly is a _mysterious_ air to this place, makes me feel like I might finally be onto something.”

“I-Is that so…” Keishin says weakly.

“It’s quite fortunate that I was able to run into you, too, Ukai-kun!” Takeda exclaims. “The Ukai family, on top of being well-known around these parts, also happens to be the oldest family in Miyagi’s history! I know you said you couldn’t think of anything off the top of your head, but surely there’s something odd about this place.”

He grabs his bags of groceries and bows shallowly. “Please think it over, for my sake. I look forward to our meeting tonight!” And with those dreadful parting words, Takeda slips out of the store and down the street before Keishin could do something sensible, like _cancel on him_.

But, since it’s too late to change his mind or call Takeda up and take it back, Keishin does the next best thing: he bangs his head against a wall to the mantra _fuck fuck fuck_.

 

\--------------------------------

 

With the end of Keishin’s life and his kind as a whole looming inevitable over his head, the last thing Keishin should have been worrying about was what to wear.

And yet, there he was, struggling between tie or no tie and, right, the fact that his magic was sure to slip out and alert the extremely observant _paranormal investigator_ to the existence of magic. Keishin wants to die. Better yet, he should just kill the troublesome man. Even better yet, because _god,_ Keishin, that was a _terrible_ idea, he should just cancel. Pretend he’s sick, pretend something else came up, pretend _anything_ to get out of this mess.

Only, the moment he did hat, he would become even more suspicious in Takeda’s eyes. Takeda was no fool—if he made contact with a paranormal entity, their first instinct would be to run as far away from him as possible. By following that pattern, Keishin would make himself an even bigger target. He had to suck it up and survive one night of alcohol and interrogation—fuck, he _really_ couldn’t hold his alcohol and he tended to drink more under pressure.

Add the stress of the meeting, the loosening effect of the sake, and Keishin’s own attraction to Takeda—it was all but inevitable that Keishin would let his magic slip. Back to banging his head against the wall, he supposed.

His alarm goes off, and Keishin jumps a foot.

Scrambling to turn it off, Keishin comes to terms with the fact that there’s no way out of this mess. It’s a cleverly designed trap, and he fell for it: glasses, smile, and sinker. If he trudges from his apartment down the street, well who could blame him?

He arrives ten minutes early and proceeds to psyche himself out until he’s two minutes late and looks significantly more haggard than when he left. Not that it matters, since Takeda is thrilled to see him anyway.

“Ukai-kun!” Takeda exclaims. “Come in, come in!” He ushers Keishin in with vigor. Keishin hopes that his death is swift and painless. Takeda’s house is nice, at least. It’s a bit dusty and the hallway is crowded with boxes, but a bookcase has been hastily assembled and a few boxes’ worth of books unloaded onto the shelves. Keishin can’t fight the smile on his face as he walks towards it, stroking a hand over the spines lovingly arranged in alphabetical order.

“I see where your priorities lie,” he teases, despite himself.

“Oh, hush,” Takeda replies, cheeks pink. “What’s wrong with loving books?”

“Nothing at all,” Keishin counters. “Nerd,” he adds, after a pause.

“Who knew house guests could be so rude?” Takeda says, flustered, and stomps off towards what Keishin assumes is the kitchen. It’s about equal to watching a kitten march off in one direction.

 _Maybe this won’t be so bad_ , Keishin thinks, and manages to convince himself of that fact until he notices the once dying house plant flourishing back to life, leaves bright and green, healthier than anything water and fertilizer could produce. Keishin swears and darts after Takeda, thankful he didn’t notice.

In the kitchen, Takeda has recovered from his embarrassment. He smiles when Keishin enters. “Can I get you anything to eat?” He offers.

“No, thank you,” Keishin declines. “Ate before I came.” _There’s no way I’m getting drunk with you,_ Keishin vows silently to Takeda.

“Don’t mind if I do, then,” Takeda chirps, and sets his own bowl of udon on table. Keishin settles on the other side, eyeing the bottle of sake nervously. Takeda follows him, wiggling into place and then folding his hands on the table. “Well!” He says. “Shall we begin?”

If Keishin expected to be interrogated from the first moment on, he has gravely underestimated Takeda’s ability to get his guard down. Rather than start asking him about the paranormal and the strange, Takeda asks about who Keishin is closest to in his family (his mother), what his friends are like (annoying but reliable), and how he likes his job (he misses playing volleyball).

Keishin finds out more about Takeda as well—for one, his whole ‘paranormal investigation’ routine isn’t his occupation; it’s just a hobby. Actually, Takeda is a high school teacher who decided to transfer to Karasuno after hearing some paranormal tips from his “classified” sources. He teaches Japanese Lit., has a deep passion for poetry (but very little skill for it himself, something Keishin doesn’t buy at all), and he’s twenty-nine years old.

Keishin spits out his drink in disbelief. “You?! You’re nearly _thirty_?!” He tries to make words, but all he can do is flap his jaw uselessly.

Takeda takes a sip of his sake, looking composed and far too innocent. “I’ve been told I look young for my age.”

“I thought you were _younger_ than me,” Keishin says weakly. “As in, I wanted to make sure you were _legal_. And now I find you’re three years older than me!”

“Legal? My, my Ukai-kun, how forward of you,” Takeda teases. Keishin’s not sure it’s possible to get even _more_ flustered than he is right now, but he’s certainly going to make an effort.

There’s something else to it, though. As much as the alcohol is starting to get to Keishin and dull his senses and reservations, he knows he’s not imagining the way Takeda’s eyes duck away after making his comment, shy. Keishin’s heart flutters, and he feels numb in his fingers. Was this…not just an interrogation, then? Was Takeda…

_No. This is bad. At this rate, I’ll…_

“Ukai-kun,” Takeda says, and Keishin’s eyes jump to meet his. There’s a determined edge to them that takes his breath away. “I know that my…hobby…may seem strange to you. I know it’s out of the ordinary and my questioning makes you uncomfortable. But please understand…I am desperate for answers. I’m holding on to this belief without any proof, but I truly believe that there are supernatural forces out there. If I could find any tangible evidence—”

“I’m sorry,” Keishin says softly. “I meant what I said in the shop. There’s nothing of that sort in Miyagi. Honestly, you would be better off giving up your search altogether.”

“I can’t accept that,” Takeda presses, and whoa, when did he get so close to Keishin. Takeda is leaning towards him, staring intently into his eyes, and Keishin is trapped in his lie. “Please, Ukai-kun, tell me you can give me anything. Any kind of lead at all—even someone else I could go to to ask, please.”

 _I can’t, I can’t_ , Keishin thinks. _Everyone I know who could help you is a witch like me. Please, just leave it._ “I don’t know anyone who would know something like that. I wish I could help you, Ittetsu, I do. But I can’t. You’ve got the wrong guy,” he pleads desperately with Takeda.

“Please,” Takeda begs, one hand sliding to rest on Keishin’s knee. The touch is electric. As Takeda leans into his shoulder, eyes red and face pulled into an expression ore desperate than Keishin’s, the lights in Takeda’s house flicker, and Keishin feels his magic dance across his skin, settling in his fingertips, itching to be released. He wasn’t…he couldn’t hold on…he was going to lose it _any moment_ …

“Please,” Takeda whispers in his ear. “Ukai-kun, I need your help. I _need_ you.”

Keishin turns to him, refusal on his tongue, and Takeda kisses him.

Keishin’s magic comes crashing around him like waves in the wildest of tempests, smashing against his control and finally, finally breaking free when Takeda’s other hand moves to cup Keishin’s cheek to kiss him deeper.

The breaking sounds like thunder and feels like static. Keishin knows the exact moment it goes wild because Takeda jerks away from him in surprise, the tingling of skin jumping from witch to human in an instant. It smells wild and sharp, like eucalyptus. The lights in the house go dark and the room is lit by Keishin’s magic, illuminating him with power. Takeda opens his eyes, and Keishin allows him to see just long enough for his pupils to constrict before Keishin is shoving him back and pulling him close, Takeda’s back to his chest, a hand clamped firmly over his eyes.

“Don’t move,” Keishin orders, sobering quickly. “Don’t open your eyes, don’t talk.” He can feel how desperately Takeda _wants_ to say something, wants to question what he saw, wants to _understand_. There’s no way Keishin can pass any of this off as something that _isn’t_ magic. He has failed.

The air is still crackling with unruly magic, and no amount of trying to reel it in is successful—Keishin is too keyed up to do anything but hold Takeda warm against him, while Takeda wiggles, impatient and desirous of answers.

“I don’t want to hurt you,” Keishin says gravely, and Takeda goes still as the dead. It occurs, belatedly, to Keishin that the balance of power in this situation is staggeringly favoring him. Takeda is just a human. A defenseless, flimsy human, and Keishin has all the power of his family and his years of experience at his disposal. If he really wanted to, he could kill Takeda without blinking, and Takeda knows it.

“Don’t open your eyes,” Keishin orders again, softer this time. He removes his hand slowly from Takeda’s eyes, watching to see if Takeda will listen. He remains obedient, eyes squeezed shut, but his lower lip is trembling. _That won’t do._

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he repeats, gently turning Takeda so he faces Keishin. “I don’t want to hurt you,” Keishin whispers, and he leans in to kiss Takeda.

He hears and feels the way Takeda’s breath catches, and it makes his magic spark violently. Takeda flinches at the sound, away from Keishin, and Keishin follows, hand light on Takeda’s arm. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “It’s okay.” This time, when he kisses Takeda, Takeda kisses back.

Keishin starts by kissing slow, just the slide of their lips together, treating Takeda as if he were a frightened fawn, and that’s his first mistake. Takeda knows what he wants. Once he establishes that Keishin isn’t actually going to hurt him, his hands are in Keishin’s hair tugging on it, pulling Keishin closer. He tilts his head to the side and starts to _really_ kiss Keishin, demanding answers with every nip at Keishin’s lips. A _what the hell just happened?_ in the fitting of fingers along Keishin’s jaw. _Why won’t you let me see?_ in the way he pulls Keishin’s lip into his mouth. _Who are you, what are you, what are **we**?_ in every brush of his tongue against Keishin’s mouth.

Keishin’s hands slide to Takeda’s hips and Takeda gasps, jerking towards Keishin at the contact. Keishin is about to pull Takeda close to him, when Takeda shoves him back, off balance, and onto the floor. In another moment, he’s sitting on top of Keishin, breathing heavily, a hand pressed hard against his chest. “What,” Takeda puffs, “is going on?”

“I think you understand well enough,” Keishin says softly.

“I don’t!” Takeda snaps.

“Then open your eyes,” Keishin says.

Takeda does. Slowly, he blinks them open, squinting momentarily into the darkness before his eyes become adjusted, and then they are blown wide. All around them, furniture floats by them, suspended in the air. The room is lit only by multi-colored hovering orbs, still in contrast to the moving furniture. When Takeda looks down at Keishin, electricity dances over his skin, occasionally jumping over to Takeda, and his fingers are tipped in flames.

“How—? What—? But I thought you said—” Takeda chokes out.

“I said a lot of things,” Keishin mutters. “You weren’t ever supposed to know, _no one_ was supposed to know. But…” Keishin manages a wry smile. “You’re too much for me, you know that?”

“Then I…” He brushes his fingers across Keishin’s and the flames jump in time with the _thud_ of Keishin’s heart. “ _I did this?_ ” Takeda breathes.

“Yeah,” Keishin grumbles. “You make me nervous. And too relaxed? And…well…you should maybe get off of me soon.”

Takeda finally looks at him, really looks at him. “Now, why would I do a thing like that?” He asks, leaning closer to Keishin. “I still have _so many_ more questions to ask.”

“I won’t answer them!” Keishin squeaks. “No way, witches’ vow! We’d never tell humans a thing!”

“So you’re a witch?” Takeda says, blinking in surprise. “Honestly, I was thinking alien.”

Keishin sputters helplessly.

“I really want to know, though,” Takeda presses, voice gentle. “Can’t you make an exception?”

“Marry me, then we’ll talk,” Keishin snaps.

“Okay,” Takeda agrees readily. “Why not?”

“Wh-wh….no! No, that’s not—that’s not _literal_! Are you seriously implying you’d marry me for my knowledge of the supernatural?” Keishin frowns. “That’s really…”

Takeda slides his hands under Keishin’s shirt and up his chest, swallowing his groan with an open-mouthed kiss. Keishin’s eyes flutter and the furniture spins around them a little faster. “Trust me,” Takeda breathes, “my interest in you is not purely informational.”

“O-Oh,” Keishin stutters. “Um. In that case…would you be interested in going on a date with me some time? I don’t…I may be a little old-fashioned, but I’d like to take you out before I _marry_ you.”

Takeda laughs. “There’s nothing wrong with old-fashioned. However…” His hands traces the shape of Keishin’s chest with the same delicate, searching touch Keishin had witnessed in Sakanoshita Store. “If we’re both here right now, and you aren’t opposed…”

“ _Yes_ ,” Keishin agrees. Especially if Takeda keeps looking at him like that, on top of him. “Takeda-kun, I—”

“Ittetsu,” Takeda corrects lightly. “You called me by my name, Keishin; I’d like to hear it again.”

Keishin swallows and nods, feeling light-headed. “You got it.”

Takeda pauses. “Um…would you mind putting my furniture down first, though?”

Keishin takes one look at his perplexed expression and can only laugh.

 

 


End file.
